September 27, 1870
Dear Rosa,
I am perplexed beyond expression at not hearing from you and am going
to make one more effort before giving up in utter despair. The last word I have
had from you is a note that came about three weeks ago, and in which you
wondered why I did not write and said that two or three weeks previous you had
written me a long letter – two sheets full.
I answered your note immediately and told you I had not received your
letter and now for more than a week have confidently expected a letter from you
each mail day only to be more sadly disappointed at the dreaded words “no
letter from Rosa.” Doubtless you
were surprised and perhaps disappointed at finding the writer of this
letter is not he whorn (?) you would have guessed from the address on the
envelope, but I thought I would resort to a little strategy this time and
coaxed Boston to write the address for me and if in consequence you were
greatly disappointed on opening the letter. I trust owing to the peculiar
circumstances you will excuse me “for this once,” you know.
I believe I told you in the last that my sister had come home, quiet
unexpectedly to us, on a visit. She spent a week with us and during her visit
we received a still greater surprise, in the person of a cousin who came
totally unexpected from Pennsylvania. He is with us yet but I do not know how
long he will remain as he is now waiting to hear from a friend with whom he
came, and who has gone to Washington Co. He may go home soon and he may stay a
year in the west.
My school closed last Saturday so I am once more at home for a little
while at last and possibly all winter. I think I should enjoy the prospect of
spending the winter at home rather more if we could have a few more real
good young people here, and if I could, I think I would have. Rosa back
first of all just for my own personal gratification and – to let you see how
very selfish I am – I would also take it upon me to decree – well I hardly know
how the decree would go forth – but in short, I would pict (?) a note
on any attempt of certain gentleman to monopolize her society for more than one
day in a month, but I am more than half afraid that this same Rosa has been ensnared
but the ever youthful Cupid in consequence of which her Iowa friends will soon be either
forgotten or ignored, and their long cherished hope of receiving a visit from
her “dashed to the ground.”
I expect to go to spend a few days with my sister the latter part of
next week and I most earnestly hope that you will contribute to the enjoyment
of my visit by giving me the satisfaction of reading a good long letter from
you before I go. Boston and I have been
disputing as to whether you spell your last name Morehead or Moorhead. Please
inform us which is right.
I have been looking over this letter, and shant he greatly surprised if
you consider it too foolish to be worth answering. Ebenezer had a letter from
Louise last Sat in which she said that her father was so low that they were afraid
every hour would be his last.
With warmest love, I remain,
Hopefully Your Friend,
Phebe
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